


Unspoken

by Felixbug



Series: Breaking the Silence [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Fade Sex, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Oral Sex, Solitary Confinement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 08:23:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3803494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felixbug/pseuds/Felixbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Justice seemed to consider it briefly – Anders could feel the infuriatingly calm consideration that preceded every decision Justice made. Weighing up the rights and wrongs and potential consequences and then – </i>oh thank the Maker<i> – he was covering Anders’ body with his, charred black feathers crumbling around them as he kissed Anders hard, eagerly, groaning into his open mouth and rocking his hips against him. Anders hooked his leg around the backs of Justice’s thighs, feeling the smouldering fabric break apart at the slightest pressure. Slipping his hands under Justice’s coat made it crack and crumble, dying flames dancing over the sleeves as Justice shrugged out of the blackened husk. His remaining clothing was alight under Anders’ hands, giving way to the slide of bare skin on skin, a well-known map of scars and ridges of muscle and bone, a body Anders knew so well but had never thought to see like this.<i></i></i></p><p>Anders and Justice meet in the Fade for the first time since they merged. They confront their mistakes, their future, and the feelings they cannot hide from each other. Mild angst with a generous helping of smut. Reading the rest of the series is recommended but not essential.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you're skipping the rest of the series, here's what you need to know:  
> \- Hawke is in an established relationship with both Anders and Justice  
> \- When Anders falls asleep, Justice takes over his body - neither of them can control this, it's just how their situation's worked out for them.  
> \- In _Trust_ , while he was figuring out his attraction to Hawke, Justice tried masturbating while Anders was asleep. As you might expect, he woke up during.  
> \- In _Lyrium Burn_ Justice and Hawke had kinky sex involving lyrium potions - Hawke got a few mild burns, and Justice ended up swallowing a fair amount of lyrium.  
>  \- Justice and Anders have enough mental overlap to feel each others' emotions and share mental images, but they can't talk to each other inside their head - the only way to talk is for the one in control to talk to himself and the other can hear it. Because of this, they haven't had a real conversation since they merged.
> 
> I've tagged this will all the relevant ot3 tags as there are references to both Anders/Hawke and Justice/Hawke, but the main focus of this one is all on Anders/Justice. There's also references to past Karl/Anders, which is brief enough that I didn't want to tag it.
> 
> See the tags for warnings. This fic also contains references to consensual kink but... I think this one might actually count as vanilla? I'm amazed.
> 
> See Also: [Reaction Art by zazozaliad](http://felixbug.tumblr.com/post/118479776934/ive-spent-my-afternoon-so-far-re-reading-unspoken) and (nsfw) [Art by thegarretthawke](http://felixbug.tumblr.com/post/122159851899/thegarretthawke-the-point-between-rage-and)

Falling asleep was difficult for Anders when he was pushed to the back of his own mind. He couldn’t feel his eyelids growing heavy, or the softness of the sheets. He was close enough to the surface that he _could_ feel the ache in his thighs – Justice had trouble with the idea that they lacked a warrior’s build, they couldn’t support Hawke’s full body weight without suffering for it later. It would not, Anders thought somewhat bitterly, be Justice who had to work all day on his feet in the clinic feeling the results of this evening.

Justice almost seemed to be drifting off himself – that, Anders knew, was impossible, but his mind was quieter than Anders had ever known it to be. There was a faint, warm hum from the lyrium in their blood that seemed to have calmed him, and a much more solidly warm naked Hawke huddled close to his chest. Hawke had had no trouble falling asleep, and Anders couldn’t blame him. Anders didn’t think he’d ever been fucked _quite_ like that, but some of his early experiments with Karl and magic had left him shattered, barely able to _feel_ his legs, much less use them to get anywhere. Justice had eventually managed to coax Hawke into moving enough to slide between the sheets, but once there he didn’t remain conscious for long.

He pushed forward – just a little, not enough to take over, and felt sensation return to his fingers. That wasn’t quite accurate, but it was the best his mind could manage. Perhaps it was more like growing fingers, forming his shapeless essence into something closer to the body that held it. Justice still had control, but Anders’ left hand was his own and his right was definitely not far off. He reached out to gently smooth Hawke’s hair, and trailed a finger over the raised red mark on his cheek.

“I did not mean him harm.” Justice was getting better at speaking quietly, but his voice could never have been described as soft. Anders tried to find a way to respond, but everything he wanted to say was too complicated to just convey with feeling – he needed words, but couldn’t speak.

“There are minor burns and bruises,” Justice said, and Anders felt a brief tug, a snap, and his hands were glowing fully again and returning to their place wrapped around Hawke. “In the morning, you will convince him to submit to healing. His reasons for refusing are – I appreciate the gesture, but I would prefer not to be the cause of discomfort.”

Anders couldn’t deny he’d prefer not to deal with the questions Hawke’s lyrium burns would prompt, but he bristled at the suggestion that he simply _would_ do anything Justice insisted. Every time things seemed to be improving with him and Justice learning to negotiate their needs, Justice always seemed to find a way to remind him who was in control.

“I do not know what you want of me,” Justice said, cutting into Anders thoughts. A wave of crushing sadness flooded his mind, and Justice tucked his head close against Hawke’s shoulder with a sigh. “I don’t know what is wrong this time. Anders, I miss our talks.”

 _I miss you too._ There wasn’t much hope of Justice hearing the thought, but something of the intent made it through and Justice nodded.

Hawke slept on, untroubled, and eventually Anders was able to let sleep claim him. In the final moments of consciousness he thought he felt – it was impossible, surely – a sudden surge of sensation across his skin as if he had retaken control. Then Hawke’s bedroom was dissolving, and he was elsewhere.

It was cold – a damp cold that hit the bones as fast as flesh. There was no light, not even the faintest flicker of distant stars or a dying fire. Hawke’s bed was gone, and Anders was lying on bare planks, listening to the scurrying sound of rats’ claws on wet stone. He curled his hands into fists. This was a dream – he knew it was a dream, knew it would be over in minutes, hours at worst. That knowledge didn’t help as much as it should. It felt more solid than usual – the air was colder, the ragged clothing he wore rougher against his skin, and the oppressive feeling of the walls and low ceiling seemed all the more heavy and real.

 _I should be able to control this,_ he thought, focusing on the bite of his nails into his palms. Being aware of dreams was supposed to make it easier to escape them – mages shouldn’t be able to get trapped in the same nightmare night after night but here he was. Down here alone, mind fraying as the days dragged into weeks dragged into months. His mind replayed his capture over and over again – a stolen purse tight in his grip, grinding his fingertips into worn leather. Asking openly – careless, clumsy, too _stupid_ to think – if any of the ships were heading to Kirkwall. A gauntleted hand closed on his shoulder and then… Anders covered his face with a groan. He wouldn’t let it break him – not a distant memory, not this time, not again.

The heavy tread of boots outside the door emptied his mind. Before he even realised he was moving he was on his knees, fists pounding at the cell door. His knees were grinding into the damp, filthy grit on the ground, peeking bare between the ragged remains of his robes. His chest was tightening, pulse racing, and his voice was hoarse – he barely recognised it, how long since he’d spoken to anyone but himself? How long had he been here alone, silent in the dark? How much longer could they leave him here?

“Let me out!” he screamed, feeling splinters drive into his clawing hands. “Let me out please – please – I won’t, I won’t run, I won’t do anything just…”

The door shattered.

Anders looked down at his hands in a daze. He remembered this was a dream now – how could he have forgotten? There were sounds coming from nearby, the crash of metal being crushed and a choking, gurgling wail that ended abruptly. Anders just stared at his hands, gasping and shaking. It had been too _real,_ it was as if he’d never left.

As he fought to control his breathing, Anders realised he was _looking_ at his hands. Not sightlessly, but really seeing. They were lit in a burning bright glow – his eyes stung from the sudden glare, but as his vision cleared he realised the light was a brilliant, unnatural blue.

A hand closed around his arm and pulled him to his feet, and Anders looked up into a pair of intense, flatly glowing eyes.

“This injustice will not continue.”

Justice looked around the cell with cold disdain, and the walls fell away.

***

It could have been a trick of the Fade or a trick of his mind, but Anders couldn’t remember how he’d got here. He was still dressed in the ragged, grimy remains of a robe, but he was sitting on a smooth boulder in an open field, a soft breeze tugging at his hair. It was a thin illusion – everything was tinged with green, and the sky was streaked with black smoke rather than cloud, streaming off into the distance. He was shaking violently, his chest was still tight and the rage and grief were still too recent – too real. But he was out, and Justice had brought him somewhere better – somewhere safe. Anders flinched as a thick blanket was draped across his shoulders.

“You are cold because you expect to be,” Justice chided, crouching stiffly in front of him. Anders had often wondered how Justice would look in the Fade, but there was no great reveal of his true form. He simply looked as he did in reality – like Anders, but split with veins of blue light.

“It’s shock.”

“In your body, it would be. Here, it is your belief causing your symptoms.”

Anders tugged the blanket closed around himself and tucked his chin against his chest. His lungs still felt as if they were being crushed, but his breathing was slowing. His thoughts were scattered – Justice, here? Was he another dream, a figment of his imagination conjured up for some elaborate rescue fantasy? He was interrupted by a quiet growl, and glanced up to see Justice holding out a glass of water.

“Drink.”

Anders took it in a shaking hand and managed a sip. The sweet coldness of the water began to clear his head. Justice was moving somewhere behind him, booted feet rustling through the unreal grass. Another sip, and his chest loosened.

“Thank y…”

Anders’ voice failed him. A very warm, very _real_ feeling hand was sliding up the back of his neck, and then a set of long, intimately familiar fingers was caressing his scalp. If this was a dream, it was a very vivid one.

“I will find the Templars who did this to you,” Justice snarled. His touch was gentle, but his voice seemed to have weight here in the Fade – it made the air thick, pressure high enough Anders was sure he would be crushed. Justice was furious, every syllable a condemnation. “The ones who took Karl, the ones who hunted you down, the ones who brought you food and water when required but let you beg and scream in the dark and did _nothing.”_  Justice’s fingers tightened in his hair for the briefest moment, then returned to their gentle movements. “There is no innocence in this world, only injustice, and I will kill them all before I let them touch you again.”

His fingertips combed through his hair, twisting gently and sending a faint tingling rushing across his scalp. As Justice’s fingers returned to Anders’ scalp he leaned into the touch with a sound that was almost a sob.

“What…” there were too many questions – how Justice was _here_ seemed the most important, but it wasn’t what came out of his mouth. “What are you doing?”

“When you awaken from a nightmare, you are distressed,” Justice said, sinking his other hand into Anders’ hair. “You are shaken, often you weep. I have observed you – I have suffered by your side. You did not – you could not feel me. Our pain was matched, you had no way to know how I longed to help. Every time is the same – you wrap yourself tightly for warmth and – protection? As if this fabric is a barrier against the world.” His fingernails brushed lightly against Anders’ hairline and raked back, making his skin prickle pleasantly. “You reach for the glass of water from the nightstand, and drink until you are able to think again. Your pain recedes, as does mine. But you cannot release it – it remains.”

“Is this…” Anders swallowed, leaning back into Justice’s touch. “Maker, Justice, this isn’t a dream. You’re _here._ ”

“I will always be here,” he said, kneading Anders’ scalp with his fingertips. His voice had softened, finally, but there was still a frightening intensity to every word. “But – yes. This is real. I believe the lyrium I consumed has affected the depth of your connection to the Fade – your mind has been drawn partially through the veil, and I have been dragged behind. It is – not what I would have expected. If we were further into the Fade I would likely have taken over entirely, as it is, I am unsure how our minds separated – your nightmare may have been the cause. When you are calm, we should talk. There is so much that has been unsaid, for far too long.”

“What are you _doing_?”

“Is it helping?”

“Well… yes. But…”

Justice paused for a moment, shifting behind Anders to sit on the boulder behind him, swinging his legs over until they were pressed against Anders’ outer thighs, with Justice’s chest close against his back. Justice growled softly against the back of his neck and resumed his touches, tracing circles in arcs above Anders’ ears.

“You can’t…” Anders almost let him continue – it would have been so easy to accept this. Comforting, soothing touches erasing pain with every stroke of Justice’s elegant fingers. “Is this how you see our situation? You _comfort_ me after nightmares? You told me this would be a partnership and you – you take over my body, make me think I’m losing my mind you…”

“I almost killed the young mage, yes.” Justice’s hands stilled but didn’t drop. “The question has been in your mind ever since – I could not find a way to explain, not without silencing you in the process I – it has been difficult.”

“How can you be so calm?”

“Because the moment has passed, and she lives.” Justice tugged lightly on Anders’ hair. “I will explain but please – allow me to continue? I mean you no harm.”

Anders nodded – hating himself for it a little, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so shaken from a dream.

“You despise yourself,” Justice said. _As blunt as ever,_ Anders thought, but he couldn’t find it in him to be offended. Justice shared his mind, there was no use denying it. “I would not have agreed to this arrangement if I had known. I have been forced to feel every one of your emotions – that one in particular has caused me great distress.”

“If you want an _apology_ of all things…”

“I do not.” Justice sighed, flickering his fingers through Anders’ hair and brushing the pads of his fingers against his scalp. “I want – I _need_ – you to forgive yourself for being a victim.”

Anders froze, his back stiffening and shoulders hunching forward, shrinking away from Justice.

“Are you saying it was _me_?”

“No. It would have been my hands that bore the stain of her blood, not yours. But – it is not in my nature to hate a young mage for being unable to imagine a world beyond what their captors have taught. When I looked at her I felt disgust, I felt – intense shame, and a fury so strong I could think of nothing but destruction. I do not believe those emotions were mine.”

Justice dropped one hand to Anders’ shoulder to gently but firmly encourage him back, holding him in place and – Hawke was right, that was definitely a purr that rumbled against his ear.

“I am causing you distress,” Justice said, and Anders felt the unspoken apology filter through into his thoughts. They were still mentally connected then, even here – stretched as far apart as their minds could be divided, but still one in so many ways. “I am afraid of what we might do if you cannot let go of these feelings. They are damaging you.”

Justice didn’t finish his thought, but Anders understood. He was the cause of this – and he was damaging them both.

“I have been unable to speak to you for so long,” said Justice. He kneaded his thumbs at the top of Anders’ spine and leaned forward, pressing his body close against him with a sigh. “Please – I did not want – I have missed you for so long. Let me take care of you, just for a while, please.”

Anders nodded – his mind was racing with questions, accusations, defences – but whether it was Justice’s desperate plea or his own need, he didn’t want to fight.

“Where did you learn this?” he asked, leaning into Justice’s touch. “I’m good with my hands, but I’m sure this isn’t one of my skills.”

“It is a memory,” Justice said. “Not one of yours – nor, truly, one of mine. A fragment that remained within Kristoff’s mind. Aura – my, his wife – she suffered from nightmares. A memory from her childhood – she never spoke of it, but it would not release her. This calmed her when nothing else would.”

The memory of solitary certainly felt a lot more distant, but Anders wasn’t sure _calm_ was quite the word. For all his experience with Hawke, Justice didn’t quite understand how intimate this kind of contact was – Anders realised he was unlikely to have any clear memories of physical touch that wasn’t with a lover or a wife. Kristoff’s memories had been degraded, and Justice only had the most intense, the most precious left to work from. Justice’s fingers trailed feather-light down his neck and reached his shoulders, thumbs digging in either side of his spine and making him groan. _Shit._

“Justice this – thank you, I feel better.”

“Your pulse is quickened.”

“That’s – ah –“

Anders felt the sudden burst of Justice’s surprise, followed immediately by shame. Justice’s hands dropped away abruptly as if burned.

“I apologise.”

Justice began to draw away, and without thinking, Anders dropped his hand to his thigh. _Maker,_ that felt strange – every well-known contour of his own leg beneath his hand, but it was Justice he was touching. So familiar, and yet so _not_.

“Please – don’t move yet?” He wasn’t ready – it had only been moments, he knew it, but it still felt just like the first time he’d been hauled out of his cell. He’d been unable to believe it was real, unable to speak in case he said the wrong word, failed whatever test this was, and was cast back into the dark. Back then, there had been no one to help him remember how to live again. Whatever Justice was to him now, he had been a friend once.

Anders couldn’t find words to explain why he needed the contact, but Justice seemed to understand. He remained, hands hovering awkwardly beside Anders’ shoulders before eventually settling on the rock.

“You are conflicted,” Justice said finally. His breath was hot against the back of Anders’ neck. “I know you do not wish to speak of this but these feelings – comfort, grief, guilt, fear, and this desire and the shame alongside it – without me, you would attract demons.”

“Without you to drink half my lyrium supply I wouldn’t be this deep into the Fade,” Anders snapped. He regretted the anger instantly – but too much had gone unsaid and he would _not_ tolerate this – accusations and lectures and Maker knew what else. Justice was, infuriatingly, right – Justice’s imposing presence was all that was keeping demons at bay, and he _hated_ that he needed that. “I used to be able to deal with this,” he said.  “The nightmares, the Circle, Karl – I didn’t even think about it and you… you ruined _everything,_ I didn’t care, I didn’t _care_ and you made me _think_ …”

He doubled over with his head in his hands, chest heaving as he fought back sobs. He would _not_ break down in front of Justice – they could both pretend Justice hadn’t seen him like this before if it didn’t happen here and now, with Justice’s hand on his back and Justice’s guilt and sorrow an unspoken beg for forgiveness in his mind.

“It isn’t your fault,” Anders said finally, running his fingers through his hair to dig his nails into his scalp. The pressure grounded him, it wasn’t pain, it wasn’t harmful, but Justice recognised the impulse that made him do it. He pulled Anders’ hands away from his head with a warning rumble and tugged him half way around to face him. Anders considered trying to shake him off – and reconsidered. Justice wouldn’t understand, he would think Anders was trying to hurt himself, and that would spark a spiral of distress and fear that echoed between them until they were both broken. It was a fight they’d had too many times before – admittedly not quite like this.

“You resent me,” Justice said. He released Anders’ hands, but Anders didn’t turn away. If they were going to talk in person, it might as well be face to face. He disentangled himself from Justice’s body and sat on the boulder beside him, trying to hide how much he missed the comforting warmth at his back.

“Not – okay, yes, sometimes. Most of the time. Not half as much as I hate myself for what I did to you, if that helps.” He ran his fingers through his hair – just a nervous gesture this time, but Justice watched him intently. “It’s been better the last few weeks but before that, I mean – it’s been _years_ Justice. I… fuck, I don’t know where to begin. Half the time it feels like you’re driving me out of my mind, there’ve been times I’ve wished I never met you... but I’m sorry – that’s where I should start, isn’t it? I never knew what it’d be like, what it’d do to you, to us – I’m sorry for blaming you when I get scared, and I’m sorry about how… how much I _hate_ them and never warned you.”

 “Your anger is righteous,” said Justice, his gaze seeming to burn into Anders’ soul. “Your hatred is _just._ I am glad of it.”

“You wouldn’t have thought so before.”

“I have _always_ thought so.” Justice’s voice deepened to a furious rumble. “At first I believed you lacked the necessary determination – that your front of apathy was genuine. I was unaware of the deception mortals are capable of. I was unprepared for your anger, your hatred, your – the sheer depth of your pain. But I have never resented it. Never. There are things I would change, for both our sakes, but do not apologise for your anger. I admire it – and you.”

“You _changed.”_

“That, I cannot deny. I was overwhelmed. As were you. Finding balance has not been easy for either of us.” Justice began to lift his hand, then seemed to think better of it and let it fall to his side. “I have wronged you. I was unprepared for what this would cost you. I did not – I still do not – understand mortal needs. I have not looked at our body in so long – you are exhausted. I have done this.”

Anders looked over Justice’s body – dressed as he usually was, in his battered old coat and scuffed boots. Justice disapproved of vanity, but that didn’t mean Anders didn’t take care of himself at all – and he’d certainly looked in his fair share of mirrors. But seeing himself like this was quite different. The change in angles highlighted his diminished frame and sunken cheeks. There were new lines around his eyes – too many for the years that had passed.

“I have starved you. I have denied you sleep.” Justice clenched his fists. “I have assaulted you.”

“Assaulted?” Anders was confused for a moment before Justice’s thoughts hit, a mental image of him – them – on their knees, Justice’s hand wrapped around his cock. Disgust came with the image, and it took Anders a moment to untangle their thoughts and realise it was coming from Justice, not him – his memory was very different. Awakening suddenly, shocked and cold with the taste of his own blood in his mouth, a split second of fear eclipsed by urgent need, thrusting into a tight fist that was not _quite_ his own, blood rushing in his ears and the gasp of a name on his lips that was almost a prayer. _Justice._

“Justice I…” Maker, he hoped Justice hadn’t been able to identify those thoughts. Even more, he hoped Justice hadn’t traced the source of Anders’ attraction to him back to that night. It was uncomfortable enough as it was, struggling with sexual tension inside his own head, without adding an extra layer of weird to the whole situation. “I offered you my body. Not quite what I had in mind but – I knew it wouldn’t just be mine any more. It was a strange night and you could have – I don’t know, there might have been a better way for things to happen, but you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I am a guest in your body. I forget that too often. There is nothing I can say that will undo these injustices and I cannot be certain they will not be repeated. I have selfish desires and they _rule_ me as if I am a mindless beast – I resent your sleep, I grow impatient when you insist on caution in matters involving the Circle, I have taken a portion of your time with Garrett as if it is my right – do not apologise to me for the corruption I have allowed to fester within myself.”

Anders couldn’t find words. He felt like he should do something – take his hand, tell him it was alright. But it wasn’t. Their shared life had spun out of control, and they both knew it wasn’t heading anywhere good. He didn’t know how much of Justice’s self-doubt was his own and how much was overspill from Anders’ own mind. It was how it always was – whether they tore at each other or themselves, they felt it as one. This was the last thing he’d have expected from a conversation with Justice – the nagging sense of guilt he’d felt almost constantly since they’d joined had been obvious, but he hadn’t thought it was _this._ Once he realised it was not solely his own, he thought it was a deliberate choice of Justice’s, an intruding emotion designed to push him harder. He’d known Justice was suffering – losing sight of what he had been – but he hadn’t known he was blaming himself every bit as much as Anders.

“We…” Anders acted on impulse, and covered Justice’s clenched fist with his hand. “We’ve both really screwed this up.”

“I believe I can still give you what was promised,” Justice said fiercely. “You have given me a cause. I will bring you everything you asked of me – freedom. Justice. Vengeance.”


	2. Chapter 2

Justice suggested Anders would feel better if he walked, so walk they did, pacing through the eerily quiet landscape of the Fade. It was better with Justice by his side – no demons would dare cross their path, and no nightmares took flesh with Justice’s iron discipline to shape their path.

Talking to Justice had never been exactly easy, and with everything that had changed between them it had definitely got harder – but as the night passed, Anders could almost believe they were back at Vigil’s Keep. There, he and Justice hadn’t always agreed either, but their arguments had been… he didn’t quite know what to call it. He’d come to crave them, finding himself drawn to Justice’s side with a sarcastic comment or an infuriated “…and another thing” poised on his tongue, only to end up sitting and listening to him for hours. And over time, they’d clashed on less and less, finishing each other’s sentences or offering a point that completed the other’s argument for them.

It was like that now – Justice was intent on discussing every decision they had made alongside the mage underground, picking over every move. He was forceful, passionate – exactly as he had been, but it was Anders’ own face he wore now, not the decaying horror he’d been trapped within before. _Maker,_ Anders admired him. He reminded him a little of Karl at times, the nights they’d spent awake whispering about their shared hatred of the Templars and the lies of the Chantry.

“…you are distressed, and conflicted again,” Justice said, cutting into his thoughts.

“Not about anything you’ve said – don’t worry about it.”

“Are you ready to discuss the topic you asked Garrett and I to forget?”

“Maker, no.” Anders shook his head, as much to clear his thoughts as anything else. Comparing Justice to Karl had set his mind wandering, and his guilt mingled with Justice’s curiosity was making him dizzy.

“If you insist on thinking of it, it will be difficult for me to forget as you requested.”

“I wasn’t…” Anders sighed. “Can we stop for a while? We must have been walking for hours.”

“There is no time here,” Justice reminded him. “Not in the way you think of it, at least – I am uncertain how much time has passed for our body.”

“Yes, well, my Fade-legs are tired. Or maybe that’s my real legs, come to think of it – while you can hear me we should have a word about that…”

Anders’ voice faded. They had stopped – and the Fade had been reshaped around them. Whether by his mind or Justice’s he couldn’t say, perhaps there was no difference. They stood on the steps of the Kirkwall Chantry at night, the cold wind tugging at Anders’ tattered robes and pulling wisps of hair around his face.

“It was Karl you thought of, not me,” Justice said. “My mistake I – would you have me unmake this dream for you?”

“No,” he said, but made no move to climb the steps. “It – was both of you, that I was thinking about. You wouldn’t believe it, but he was just as angry as you once. I wish you’d seen him, all fury and passion. I just wanted _out_ and he wanted – Maker, he wanted to change the world. If he’d come with me, maybe we could have.”

“I remember,” said Justice. He took a step and stopped at Anders’ jolt of panic. He couldn’t relive this – he wouldn’t. “He thought the system could change from within. He believed the Templars could be reasoned with, that the Chantry would evolve with time.”

“And I thought it was hopeless, and our best chance was to head for Tevinter and never look back.”

“You were both wrong.”

“I’m not so sure I was,” Anders admitted. He took a step backwards, then another. He knew if he climbed the steps he could see Karl again, but it wasn’t worth it, not like this. “Get rid of it,” he said, turning away. “Justice, please, I don’t want to be here.”

“I – am not certain I can,” Justice said after a pause. “You are holding onto this.”

“Well I’m not going inside,” he said with a bitter laugh. “The Fade can’t _make_ me.” Anders retreated to the base of the steps and headed for the nearest empty stall to sink down onto a crate, looking up at the towering building. He hated it – perhaps more than he had hated the Circle tower. This was the source of it all – this is where they decided who lived, who died, who would have the soul burned out of them.

“Your faith in our cause has never wavered,” Justice said. He stood beside him, arms hanging stiffly at his sides. “Why now?”

“It’s going to get us both killed.” Anders realised his hands were clenched tightly in the thin fabric of his robes. “You know it, don’t you? That’s what you meant when you warned Garrett that the cause, what was it you said? Might demand much of me?”

“Do you remember what I said to you the night we merged?” Justice rested his hand on Anders’ shoulder.

“You told me if I desired freedom, this was the wrong choice.” Anders reached up and covered Justice’s hand with his own. “You told me if I desired something more, it was the _only_ choice.”

“I believed you would back down from your offer.” Justice sighed. “I was prepared for that – Kristoff’s body would not have served me much longer, but I would not have done this if I was not certain you were ready for what it might cost.”

“I knew. I was ready.”

“You told me you were looking for someone to stop you running.”

“I always have been.”

“Then trust me,” Justice said, and it was almost a plea – his voice tinged with regret but fuelled by his constant, endless, righteous fury. “We will finish this, and if I can carry you through it unscathed I swear to you I will.”

“Tell me he’ll be alright?” Anders looked up at Justice, and was met by an unblinking, cold stare. “I won’t hurt Garrett, not for this, not for anything – I don’t want him to spend the rest of his life having dreams like this, wondering if he could have done anything to change it.”

“We will see his sister free again,” said Justice. “We will create a world where she is safe. You have made him no promises you cannot keep – he will understand.”

The ground rumbled faintly underfoot – finally, something was changing.

Anders nodded. He’d chosen this. He accepted it. Anders felt Justice’s fear and regret along with his own, they were overlapping, mingling, but they were still distinct. While they both ached for the loss Hawke would face, Justice’s sorrow had a different note – a deeper regret.

“You are my friend,” Justice said, sensing Anders’ question. “You gave me purpose. You placed your life – your body – in my hands and gave me your trust. Until recently, I could not know the significance – the value mortals place on these actions. I do not wish to lose you. Not now that I understand. Not now I am ready to accept everything you have offered.”

The rumble became a roar, there was fire in the sky and cracks in the ground, and Justice’s hands clenched in Anders’ robes, pulling him upright and away as the Chantry rippled, groaned, and was torn apart.

As it exploded, Anders realised he’d known – perhaps always known – this was how the dream was meant to end. The paving stones bucked and exploded into shards beneath their feet and Anders cried out and almost fell, but Justice’s arm was around his waist pulling up and back.

“This cannot harm you,” he said, his voice surrounding Anders’ with the comforting weight of a heavy blanket. “This is an image from your mind, you will not be injured.”

The air was filled with dust and smoke, it burned Anders’ lungs and the roar of falling debris made his skull feel like it was being split in two. Another ripple raced across the ground, thick stone shattering into rubble that moved like fluid underfoot but Justice was right – he was afraid, almost deafened and blinded, but unharmed. Anders realised he had turned against Justice’s chest and had both hands clenched in his coat, feathers as smooth as oil against his fingers.

Finally, the dust settled. They stood in silence in the ruins – in the destruction Anders’ mind had wrought.

“This is how you see this ending,” Justice said slowly, staring around at the destroyed remains.

“No.” He shoved Justice away, crossing his arms across his chest. “No – not this – I’ve thought about – but never. Please, Justice, please not like this.” _How many dead?_ He tried to work it out – a magical explosion within the city, burning rubble raining down in all directions, _Maker,_ it’d feel like the world was ending.

“This image was your creation, not mine.” Justice took a half step towards Anders, but stopped as Anders panic and disgust hit him. “But you know as well as I, this cannot end without destruction. Our cause cannot be accomplished by words, the mage underground saves lives one by one but every day more mages suffer and die at the whim of the Chantry. You know what must be done. All of Thedas must see our suffering, our fury.”

“No.” Anders looked at the smouldering ruin that had been the Chantry, and wished more than anything that he could hide from Justice how good it felt to see it gone. “Please – let me have more time. Let me find a better way.”

“If there is one, we will find it.” Anders let Justice approach, and was more glad than he could say of the hand that settled on his back. “This is not the outcome I would choose, were there any other way. But when the time comes, you cannot shrink from what you are.”

The Fade remade itself around them, and before the change was complete Anders knew where he was – a memory he’d tried to forget, once or twice perhaps he’d even succeeded, but in the depths of the Fade and of his own mind, he could not escape. Before the oath of the Wardens, the high walls of the Circle tower, there was this. The day destiny’s claws sunk into him, and he was bound.

Overgrown grass flickered around his thighs in the wind – it couldn’t have been that long, he knew, but in his memory he had been smaller. A scrawny frame, tall for his age, but still just a boy of twelve. Anders reached out his hand as he walked, feeling the razor sharp tips of the grass and weeds rake his palm. He walked towards the barn, stomach tied in knots as he reached the warped wooden door and smelled the clean, warm scent of straw.

“You brought me here,” he said in a daze.

“You need to see.”

“Unmake it.” But his hand was reaching out, unlatching the door and letting it swing loose on its crooked hinges. He remembered every squeak of rusted metal, every plume of rising dust, every shaft of sunlight through broken planks and the rushing scuffle of rats diving into hiding.

“You are free to walk away, if that is what you choose.” Justice stood beside him in the doorway, watching Anders closely. Those unblinking eyes seemed to bore into his soul – he supposed they were, in a way. He couldn’t hide anything from Justice, not even this. He would run from dreams of the Circle, bury memories of Karl as deep as he could, but this – he knew all too well – was inescapable.

Justice followed him into the barn, and a gust of wind slammed the door behind them. Anders didn’t flinch. He followed his own footsteps from all those years before, scrambling up the rickety wooden ladder into the loft, bare boards and skittering spiders and precious privacy.

 “You wanted to learn,” Justice said from behind him. Anders knelt, tracing the handprints in the dust – just a boy’s hands, narrow and long-fingered, smaller, both unrecognisably his own and yet plain unrecognisable. How much had changed? How much had the fire scorched out of him?

“I wanted to _stay,_ ” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to use it – I wanted to learn how _not_ to.”

“You cannot lie to me.”

“I wanted to control it, I wanted to be normal.”

“Tell me the truth.”

Anders bit his lip, staring at the faint scorch marks on the wood and refusing to look at Justice. The heavy tread of boots behind him sent a shiver up his spine, and Justice’s hand was not gentle when it descended on his shoulder, fingers burrowing into his flesh.

“Tell me what you wanted.”

“I would have never done it, Justice – Maker, it was just a fantasy, that doesn’t mean I would have…”

“Would have done what?”

“I wanted to burn it all down.” He tried to shake off Justice’s hand but it stayed in place. “I just wanted to see his face the next time he raised his hand to her, or me, and I showed him what I could do. I wanted to burn it all away until we were safe and free of him, until every memory of this place turned to ash.”

There were sparks dancing between his fingers, he tried to hold them back but they were growing by the second. Faint, crackling embers cascading between clenched knuckles, leaving charred freckles on the wood.

“I know you would not have harmed him.” Justice knelt beside him and took his hands, gently tugging Anders’ fingers straight with a frown as he saw the crescent shaped indents in his palms. “It would have been just, but not – not kind, not merciful. You have depths to you, but above all you are gentle and you are _good_.” Flames licked their joined hands and Anders shuddered as he saw a plume of smoke rising from the wood between them. Justice squeezed his fingers.

“Look at me,” he said. “Anders, forget this – look at me.”

He did – by some miracle he could lift his gaze to meet Justice’s intense stare. His robes were beginning to catch but the fire left his skin untouched, and there were crackling orange sparks flying up between them only to be eclipsed by Justice’s burning glow.

“You are the part of me that hesitates at the final blow,” Justice said. “The part of me that longs for peace more than either of us long for blood. I do not know what I was before you – but I know that I am better beside you, despite what you fear. But do not forget, when there is nothing else left you have the strength to destroy – and in destruction, you are glorious.”

The straw caught. The wind whistling between the cracks in the walls whipped it into a roaring blaze, and still flames poured from Anders’ hands, pooling around them like silk and turning the world to shades of gold. He should be afraid – he’d always been afraid before but this was different. He knew the flames couldn’t touch him, he knew Justice would not let him suffer through the fear of what came after. This was not a nightmare, it was a rebirth. Justice was outlined in flame, his feathered coat already charred black and his cracked skin glowing so bright it was almost white. It wasn’t curiosity that made Anders lean forward, it wasn’t an idle fantasy that made him reach out to cup Justice’s jaw, and it wasn’t lust alone that crushed his lips against Justice’s with a groan.

He didn’t want to talk about it – he didn’t even want to think about it – but _doing,_ rushing headlong into trouble without hesitation, that was his style. Justice responded instantly, eagerly, his lips parting and tongue darting out to meet Anders’ with a growl. Anders closed his eyes and just felt. He was – _Maker,_ he was practically kissing himself – feeling the familiar scratch of his own stubble against his hand, running his tongue over his own lips, then deepening the kiss and tasting the bitter, burning Fade-taste that was all Justice. His own building need met a surge of relief and urgent want, and Justice’s hand sank into his hair to pull him closer, tighter, lock him in place.

Images flitted between them, bursting briefly in his mind before scattering into sparks. Anders saw himself through Justice’s eyes, lyrium-streaked and moaning eagerly as he swallowed Justice’s cock down to the base. He responded, smirking against Justice’s lips as he visualised Justice pinning him against a wall, legs forced apart and thrusting roughly, viciously into him, lips tinged with blood as he sank his teeth into Anders’ shoulder. The reply was almost tentative – a faint image that bloomed into vivid detail as Anders mentally begged for it. Justice was imagining Anders pinned between him and Hawke, head rolled back against Hawke’s shoulder as the warrior’s quick thrusts rocked his entire body, while Justice nipped and sucked at his neck and wrapped a hand around his straining cock.

“We should…” Justice slipped an arm around Anders’ waist, cupping his ass and dragging him onto his lap as he kissed him again, hard and insistent.

“Should?” Anders asked with a grin, pulling back and leaving Justice panting.

“Talk,” Justice managed. “About this. As I have tried to…”

“No.”

The wooden planks beneath them were burning in earnest, blackened wood beginning to groan under their weight. Flaming straw swirled in the air and thick smoke had blotted out the beams of sunlight but none of it could touch them. Anders was done taking orders, done with Justice’s constant control. He forced his head back and claimed his lips roughly, sucking hard enough to bruise and rocking his hips against Justice in time with each gasping, rumbling moan he forced from the spirit’s lips. _Take the bait,_ he thought. _Push back – don’t make me think, not this time, please._

Justice’s hands clenched in the charred remains of his robe, and it fell apart in his grip. The remains of the fabric were shed, leaving Anders naked in his arms. Justice snarled and sunk his fingers into Anders’ back, gripping his flesh hard enough to bruise and rocking forward, pulling and twisting and forcing him onto his back. He settled between Anders’ thighs and pressed his hands flat against his chest, then pulled back gasping.

“We may never speak face to face again.” His voice seemed to bend the air, intense focus giving every syllable weight. “We will talk, or this will not happen.”

“Then talk fast.” Anders bucked his hips and Justice shuddered, fingers digging into Anders’ chest. “Before we wake up.”

“First – Garrett. I believe he would be comfortable with this?”

“He seemed – well, surprised, when I mentioned it. But not in a bad way.” Anders tried to imagine Hawke as jealous? Threatened? His mind drew a blank – it wasn’t how their relationship worked, it wasn’t how _Hawke_ worked. “He’ll wish he could have been here.”

“That was my belief.” Justice’s brows creased. “I would feel better if we could ask him.”

“Didn’t exactly know it was going to be _possible_ , or I would have.”

“But that is not my main concern.” Justice’s hands splayed over Anders’ chest, rubbing small circles against his skin. “When we merged I found your desires distasteful – now I see the intimacy in trust – I understand what you offered me when we merged. And if this is what you choose – oh, I will _accept_.” His voice deepened and his grip tightened possessively on Anders’ sides. “But _you_ did not see it this way before – I am afraid my changing nature is the cause. Did I expect desire in you, and create it?” Justice tilted his head. “Or is the desire yours, but the emotion mine? None of this is within our control. We are not two people. I do not believe this is how intimacy should be.”

“I’ve never worried too much about should.” Anders flinched as there was a loud crack from nearby, and the floor pitched slightly, creaked, but held firm. “I - if tonight hadn’t happened, I was going to ignore it, I was, I know this is probably the _weirdest_ thing I’ll ever do but… this might be the only chance I get and, Maker, Justice, I _want_ this. And you’ve been making it clear all night that you do too.”

“I have crossed the line in the past,” Justice said, and oh – _fuck_ – the mental image was back in force, Justice’s teeth buried in his arm and his hand a blur as it worked his cock. “I will not do so again. I will _not._ ” The ground shook as Justice’s determination rippled the fabric of the Fade around them.

“I feel what you feel,” Anders said, fighting the urge to arch his back and grind shamelessly against the solid pressure of Justice’s cock. “But I’m still me – I don’t need to know _why_ , I don’t care if it was your idea or mine. Please, fuck, Justice please just _touch_ me.”

Justice seemed to consider it briefly – Anders could feel the infuriatingly calm consideration that preceded every decision Justice made. Weighing up the rights and wrongs and potential consequences and then – _oh thank the Maker_ – he was covering Anders’ body with his, charred black feathers crumbling around them as he kissed Anders hard, eagerly, groaning into his open mouth and rocking his hips against him. Anders hooked his leg around the backs of Justice’s thighs, feeling the smouldering fabric break apart at the slightest pressure. Slipping his hands under Justice’s coat made it crack and crumble, dying flames dancing over the sleeves as Justice shrugged out of the blackened husk. His remaining clothing was alight under Anders’ hands, giving way to the slide of bare skin on skin, a well-known map of scars and ridges of muscle and bone, a body Anders knew so well but had never thought to see like this.

As the last of the burned fabric parted under Anders’ hands, the floor of the loft gave way. They fell in a tangle of limbs, landing a few feet below in a mound of burning straw. It cascaded around them, harmless flames licking against their skin and the crunches and crashes of falling beams seeming to be miles away. Justice tucked his head against Anders neck and laughed breathlessly, a strange, quiet chuckle that came with a faint feeling of self-consciousness. Anders realised the smoke was cut with daylight again – the roof was caving in, sagging and licked by fire. He rolled Justice onto his back into a smoky ray of light and encouraged his head back with a twist of fingers in his hair.

“Let me see you,” he murmured. Justice sprawled back in the straw, looking up at him with his unblinking, flat blue gaze. Anders sat up, straddling Justice’s hips – his own hips, he couldn’t help but think. It was a perfect copy of his own cock trapped between them, his own lean body arched beneath him, his own hands skimming up his thighs. Anders rocked his hips forward, letting Justice’s cock grind against his ass, and was rewarded with a rough growl and the bite of fingernails into his thighs.

“I didn’t think you’d let me get on top,” he teased.

“This will not be how it is with Garrett.”

“No?” Anders rolled his hips and Justice gasped, his body jerking eagerly. “Why not? Don’t you want to hold me down and…”

“No,” said Justice. “Never. Not you. You are – nngh, yes, yes…” his fingers scrabbled at Anders’ thighs before reaching his hips and squeezing hard, holding him still, before Anders could stroke him into complete incoherence. “I have never hurt Garrett in any way he did not desire,” Justice said, his voice cracking with need. “He can feel safe in my hands. You cannot – not yet. Perhaps never, after all I have…” He threw his head back with a low moan as Anders broke free of his grip and teased him with another sudden thrust of his hips.

“I trust you,” Anders said. He knew exactly what he was doing, and the twitch of Justice’s cock against his ass told him it had worked.

“Trust is not sufficient.” Justice’s grip tightened on his hips and Anders was on his back before he realised he was being pushed, thrust into the charred straw as Justice kissed his way down his neck with agonizing gentleness. He reached his collarbone and continued, fingertips faintly humming with power as he skimmed them over Anders’ nipples and his lips continued their hot, damp trail down to the middle of his chest.

“I am glad Garrett gives you what you need.” Justice’s voice vibrated against his skin, making him ache for more. “But I have never wanted that for us. You give _enough._ Too much. I want – I _need_ to take care of you. I need you to know how much I value what you have done for me.”

Justice continued his path down Anders’ body, kisses turning to a trail of brain-meltingly hot sucks and open-mouthed bites. They barely dented the skin but still left Anders writhing and panting against the onslaught of sensation. He threw his head back, eyes fluttering shut as Justice moved over him, the hot, firm swipe of his tongue and the teasing pulls of his teeth seeming to be everywhere at once. Justice reached his hip, his tongue tracing the line of muscle lower, then lower still.

“Fuck, Andraste’s tits, Justice, _yes._ ” Anders’ hand shot out to grasp Justice’s hair as his mouth enclosed his cock. Being aware that it was _his_ mouth somehow only made it better – he knew every trick his clever tongue was capable of and it seemed Justice had learned them all. He traced and flickered his way up to the tip, pushing up into Anders’ touch with a low growl that vibrated against Anders cock before working his way back down. He was slow – holding Anders’ hips down hard enough to leave flushed indents from his fingertips, refusing to let him thrust up into the perfect wet heat. Anders fell back, panting and biting back needy groans. Justice sucked hard and Anders couldn’t hold back a desperate whine, fingers tightening in blond hair, feet scrabbling in the loose straw to find leverage to thrust up.

It was nothing like he’d imagined – vague fantasies of chains, the searing kiss of lyrium against his exposed flesh, pinned down and used roughly, well-fucked and broken with a glowing hand tight around his throat – could not compare to this. Justice was intimidating – especially in the Fade – warping the air around him and bending reality effortlessly to his will. But he was shockingly human through it all, quiet, eager moans humming against Anders’ cock, breathing hard through his nose, and spikes of his own urgent arousal jolting across their shared consciousness. Anders let the sensations wash over him, the little bursts of pleasure flooding in from Justice’s mind echoing around his own rapidly growing pool of coiled heat. The flames were dying down around them but he felt as if he was burning, every inch of his skin on fire, smouldering at every point Justice’s skin touched his.

“Justice I – I need…” words failed him but they didn’t need words, not really. His mind was overflowing with thoughts of what he wanted – Justice’s hand balled in his hair, forcing him down and slamming into him roughly from behind, face shoved into the ashes beneath them. The image shifted as Anders’ concentration slipped, the Justice in his mind pulled him upright, slipped an arm around him to grip his shoulder from the front, then groaned against his neck as he began to drive into him with slow, deep thrusts.

“Yes, yes if that’s how you want it just please _hurry._ ”

Justice didn’t answer, but one hand dropped from Anders’ hip and when he felt it again it was slipping under him, fingers slicked with something that felt like oil but Anders supposed could be _anything_ in this place. Anders hissed and bucked against Justice’s mouth as he worked a finger into him. Justice sucked faster, his mouth impossibly soft and wet, tongue swirling at the head of Anders’ cock with every stroke before sinking down to the base to enclose him in tight heat. He added a second finger and Anders gritted his teeth and breathed hard, urgently, fighting to hold back. He could come like this – they’d barely got started and Justice had him unravelling fast, clever fingers sending pulses of white-hot pleasure flooding through him. It was their first time but it was a body Justice knew too well – everything Hawke had done to either of them, every night for three long years when all Anders had had was his own hand, Justice had absorbed every memory eagerly and was putting them to work. Every curled thrust of his fingers pushed him closer to his peak, every flicker of that perfectly wicked tongue sent raw pleasure racing across his skin. His head was swimming, his back arching, fists clenched in the powdery ash and then – nothing. Justice’s fingers and mouth withdrew abruptly leaving Anders almost sobbing with frustration, hips jerking against empty air.

“Your body is beautiful.” Justice leaned over Anders, tracing his lips with the tip of his tongue. “Your taste, the sounds you make, the way you move. The way it feels inside you.” He groaned, dropping his hand between them to trace feather-light touches across Anders’ throbbing cock, curling his fingers briefly around his balls and slipping back to circle his entrance, teasing mercilessly as Anders rocked against his hand.

“Is that – ah – a compliment or a brag?” Anders keened in frustration as Justice withdrew his hand, bracing it on Anders’ thigh.

“It is _worship,_ ” Justice growled, pushing Anders’ legs apart. “That I am permitted your form is an honour. You do not understand – human concepts of beauty are so fragile, so narrow. Each mortal body is unique.” Justice trailed his finger over one long, narrow scar that curved around Anders’ waist. “Marked by your history, every inch of skin written with your story. You have shared what was never meant to be shared – what you have given me is sacred. And that you view me this way in the Fade, when I could be anything to you…” he trailed off, raking his gaze over Anders’ body, over his heaving, sweat-sheened chest to between his spread legs. Anders couldn’t help but feel exposed, stripped more than naked under Justice’s intense gaze. “You have played at vanity,” he said slowly, voice softened with awe. “You cannot begin to understand how I see you.”

Justice moved over him, framed in drifting ash and clouds of smoke, his bright glow diminishing the flickering embers and the last of the dying flames. He slid one hand into Anders’ hair, no pressure, no pain, just the whisper of fingertips across his scalp that made him arch and groan and then _whimper_ as Justice thrust into him. He drove Anders back, pushing his thighs back to his chest and raising his hips to find the right angle, a wrinkle of intense concentration forming between his brows as he rocked experimentally again, and a rough growl rising from his throat when Anders moaned and bucked against him.

He set a slow pace – not quite gentle, his hips biting into the backs of Anders thighs with every firm thrust. Justice’s free hand gripped Anders’ shoulder to hold him steady – without pinning him down, Justice had Anders exactly where he wanted him. No purchase on the ground to push back, no space to pull away, held in place beneath Justice’s stare, held tight between the iron grip of his fingers and the maddeningly slow thrusts.

“Justice please, I need more.”

Anders slid his hand up Justice’s arm, feeling the muscles jump beneath the skin as he moved over him, _in_ him and _fuck_ how had Justice got so good at this? The initial burn had faded and all that was left was the incredible stretch around his hard, thick length, perfectly angled thrusts hitting the sensitive place within him over and over again but it wasn’t _enough_. The sensations were overwhelming, and an answering rush of urgent need and building, tightening pleasure in Justice’s mind mingled with his own. Justice groaned and Anders felt his mind fill with a flood of Justice’s arousal and the desperate urge to give him what he asked for, faint, broken images of Justice pounding into him, slipping a hand between them to close around his cock.

“Yes, fuck, _yes_ …”

“Not yet,” Justice groaned. Another long, deep thrust left Anders panting, broken pleas stripped of coherence as his fingers dug into Justice’s arm, and Justice shuddered in response, feeling Anders’ desire as his own but not giving in. Anders felt his determination, and the thread of fear beneath it. This could be the only time they could meet like this – it had to last, every second had to be burned into their minds forever.

“Would you…” Justice’s mouth dropped open and his hips snapped sharply, shoulders shaking as he slowed again, trembling with the effort of holding back. “Show me – the things you do with magic, the things I cannot…”

It was easier to share thoughts than words, both of them past the point of speaking. Anders saw a fragment of his own memory, riding Hawke’s cock hard with a mass of tiny sparks dancing between his fingertips. He skimmed his fingers over Hawke’s lips, his nipples, leaned back and teased his entrance, and Hawke’s breathless grunts turned to a hoarse shout as he writhed beneath him.

Anders grinned and let his hand drop from Justice’s arm to rest against his own chest. He called on his magic, drawing energy from the shifting, rippling fabric of the Fade around them. His skin prickled all over and Justice felt it too, eyes widening as the raw power flooded through them. Anders let the magic arc between his fingers – contained twists of weak electricity mingling with the soothing  touch of creation magic, sparks that would hum and caress and tingle but never snap or burn. They hit his own skin first, awakening forgotten nerves – how long had it been since he’d used this on himself? He was arching, breathless, shuddering moans torn from him and Justice was tightening his grip, thrusting harder, feeling Anders’ burst of urgent pleasure and rapidly losing control.

“Ready?” Anders gasped, lifting his glowing fingers, his own aura of sparks matching Justice’s glow.

“Please,” Justice said, and Anders pressed his hand to the centre of his chest.

The effect was immediate. Justice’s hand tightened on Anders’ shoulder hard enough to bruise, fingers twisted in his hair pulling his head back and – _yes, Maker, finally_ – pounding roughly into him with enough force to shift Anders across the floor with every powerful thrust. His head was thrown back, straining throat lined in stretched lines of blue light as he roared – overwhelmed, consumed by the tiny sparks flickering across his skin. Anders wrapped his legs around Justice’s waist and hung on, encouraging him deeper, harder, with eager presses of his heels. Justice’s mind was open and raw, waves of blinding pleasure cascading out of him, mingling with Anders’ mind and shaking the Fade itself around them, throwing up plumes of ash.

Anders skimmed his hand up to trace humming, buzzing patterns with his fingertips against the column of Justice’s throat, then down, slipping between them to where their bodies joined to let sparks play against the base of Justice’s shaft with every thrust. Justice’s rough growl broke, and Anders _knew_ no one would believe he’d made the spirit whimper, but there was no denying it here. Justice slammed his full length into him, over and over, the sound of skin on skin ringing in Anders’ ears and images from Justice’s thoughts filling his mind. Justice concentrated and Anders could see how he looked through Justice’s eyes – cock flushed and glistening between his legs, face contorted with pleasure, chest heaving and – oh _fuck_ that was good – Justice’s thick, glowing cock plunging into him surrounded by the sparks leaping from his fingers.

As the image cleared, Anders felt Justice’s hands slipping under his back, lifting him effortlessly. Justice surged back onto his knees with Anders wrapped around him, sparks playing between them from Anders’ hand, matched heartbeats thundering in close-pressed chests.

“Touch yourself,” Justice growled against his ear.

He wrapped an arm around Anders’ back to support him and began to thrust again, hard and deep, jolting Anders’ body in his grip. Anders leaned back to curl his hand around his cock, letting out a shuddering moan as the warm static hum of magic wrapped around him, teasing and stroking, shaking in Justice’s grip. He was _so_ close, his cock throbbed in his hand and each of Justice’s rough thrusts felt as if it could push him over the edge. The twist of his thumb over the head of his cock made his legs tremble but he wasn’t quite there – Justice was holding him back. He gasped harshly against Anders’ ear, fingernails digging into his skin, and Anders could feel the mounting wave of Justice’s orgasm in the shared thought space between them, but he could control it, as he controlled the Fade. He held them on the precipice, giving Anders more pleasure than he could bear.

Anders threw his head back with a groan, and Justice caught him, tangled his fingers in his hair and pulled him forward until they were eye to eye. He leaned in close, their lips inches apart, the blinding glare of his glowing eyes turning Anders’ vision white and scorching, even when his eyelids fluttered closed.

“Don’t pull away,” Justice panted, the lyrium scent of his breath hot on Anders’ face. “Let me see – let me watch – let me…” he groaned, releasing Anders’ hair to run his fingers over Anders’ face. He slowed his thrusts, fucking him hard and intensely, every move deliberate. Anders bit his lip and tightened his thighs around Justice’s hips, grinding himself down on his cock.

Justice’s fingers were at his lips, tracing the bitten flesh. They followed his cheek, pushing the hair from his face to skim over his closed eyelids, and Anders heard Justice gasp as he thrust harder and Anders’ eyes scrunched tighter, lips twisting as he panted raggedly. His jaw twitched against Justice’s hand, mouth fell open with a cry and Justice’s fingers were there to capture the movement, slipping between his lips as if they could capture the sound that escaped.

“I long to read the secrets in your face that others do,” Justice murmured, voice roughened with desire. “I do not understand – but I can _feel._ When I move like this…” he jerked his hips roughly and Anders groaned, feeling Justice’s fingers trace his lower lip again. “I feel your mind beg, I see your face change and I almost understand.” Justice rested his forehead against Anders with a silent request Anders felt and understood – he opened his eyes to meet Justice’s gaze as they rocked together, sweat-slick flesh gleaming in the blue light, smudged with ash and shaking with need.

“I am the cause of this,” Justice gasped. “That is – that is enough – Anders I…”

Justice’s voice cracked and his control over them broke. Anders’ orgasm hit him hard, heat uncoiling, tension snapping, he spilled into his hand as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him, through him. Justice’s nails raked down his back and Justice’s raw cry mingled with his own scream as Justice’s cock twitched and pulsed inside him. Justice’s lip curled into a snarl, panting harshly as he chased every second of pleasure. Anders could feel it – Justice’s mind was flooded with sensation, the tight clench of Anders’ ass around his cock, the white-hot flood of indescribable pleasure scalding through every nerve. Their minds ran together like spilled paint, blinding points of pleasure shattering into a thousand stars as Justice continued to thrust, forcing Anders to ride through the aftershocks, moans becoming hoarse, stuttering breaths as they finally collapsed together onto the smoking ground.

“We are waking,” Justice said, pulling back to drop his head against Anders’ with a sigh. He still clung tightly to him – painfully now, fingers kneading bruised, scratched skin. “I can feel our body. We don’t have long.”

“This was…” Anders gasped for breath – the air tasted clean, the smoke had cleared, or perhaps it was the air of his own world he was tasting, the Fade already dissolving around them. “This was amazing.”

“I know.” Justice flattened against him, and Anders wasn’t sure if it was Justice’s need for contact or his own but he felt it just as strongly either way, and wrapped his arms tightly around the glowing body sprawled against him. “I will try harder – to explain to you, to – to understand you. I had given up hope of speaking to you again, but we…”

They both felt it together, a warm hand on their arm, a rough shake that moved a body they were just beginning to be drawn back to. The tenuous connection made the Fade not so much ripple as leap, the remains of the barn walls crumbling as the image fragmented.

“We don’t need words,” Anders said, and pulled Justice up, dragging his face close and kissing him hard, urgently, this might be the only chance he had and he never wanted to stop. Justice’s tongue was parting his lips, his legs tangling with Anders’ own and for a moment it felt like every inch of their skin was touching, no distance between them, no separating one from the other. The Fade jolted around them and Justice groaned against his mouth and then he was _gone._

Anders opened his eyes. Daylight was streaming across the tangled bedsheets, and Hawke was staring down at him with his face slightly lined with – it took Anders a second, Justice still too present in his mind – concern.

“You weren’t glowing,” he said. “I thought I should check… are you both okay?”

“We’re good.” Anders said. “A side effect of the lyrium…” he was out of breath, it didn’t feel like he’d slept, he ached from head to toe. “We were in the Fade. Both of us.”

Hawke grinned, relief clearly written across his face. Something else too – he looked like he was holding back laughter as he reached down to sweep a wave of sweat-drenched blond hair from Anders’ face.

“Well now that I know _that,_ a few things make sense,” he said. “You look like you had a _very_ good dream.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written under the working title "the barn the barn they fuck in the barn ON FIRE". I thought it deserved something a bit more serious for the final version, but I'm very attached to the original :P
> 
> Thanks to angryfeatheredvagrant on Tumblr for beta reading! You can find me on Tumblr as felixbug too, by the way :)


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